


A Perfect Trifecta: Even Vampires Get Jealous

by InkingAnonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little fluffy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Auror Harry Potter, Blood Drinking, Edging (just a little), F/M, M/M, Male Slash, Multi, Post-War, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampire Draco Malfoy, Vampire Harry Potter, Vampire Pansy Parkinson, Vampire Sex, Vampire Turning, mostly smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15682794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkingAnonymous/pseuds/InkingAnonymous
Summary: *Updated for some action just between our boys (Chapter 2)Pansy Parkinson was born to be a queen--a vampire queen as fate would have it. She excelled at negotiating her way through vampire politics, determined to bring a truce between wizarding and vampire kind. Draco proves to be an exemplary childe, a true mediator who aides Pansy in her goal.But something is missing. Even though she and Draco are mad for each other, she can't ignore the niggling of doubt that the two of them are incomplete.Only when Pansy crosses paths with Harry Potter does she finally know what will make them complete.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed the idea of politically interested vampires and ruling territories with a kingship/queenship from Harris’ Southern Vampire Mysteries (True Blood) so that idea is totally not mine. Other than that, I just thought Pansy, Harry, and Draco would make for a really hot trio of vamps : ) And a jealous Vampire!Draco has to be adorable, right? 
> 
> Warning: some slightly gory imagery and some light bloodplay- nothing too squickish in my opinion.

Pansy Morgana Parkinson was born to be a queen; in fact, preparing for her queenship was one of her earliest and fondest memories. She would dress in one of her mother’s beautiful gowns, raid the heirloom jewels, adorning herself with whatever she fancied, and then spend the afternoon practicing her orders on the house-elves. She came to excel at giving orders, having learned the fine art of manipulation by making her subject think that whatever she wanted was actually what they had wanted all along.

Her sire was one of the ancient ones, alive for thousands of years because of his ability to adapt to humanity’s changing society. But there was something different for him about this world; life seemed to be moving at an unprecedented pace, and he realized that he had grown tired. Immortality does hold its detriments—the cyclical and contradictory nature of humans becomes exhausting. Humans, so vibrant, so full of life, destroy everything and fall victim over and over to their own hubris. Her sire knew he needed repose—a century or so of quiet.

When he first saw Pansy, he was transfixed. At the age of 21, her beauty was something she wore, wrapped about her like a fine silk. It extended beyond her physicality and into her vivacity and her confidence. As he watched her, he saw that others noticed it, too—a trait that would transition from human to vampire magnificently. As young as she was, she was seasoned in her intellect. Pansy had already made a name for herself in the Department of International Magical Cooperation and had served as the assistant to the British representative of the International Confederation of Wizards. It was no secret in the Ministry that Pansy Parkinson’s name was already on the next seat.

Pansy’s sire also happened to be the vampire king of London. Making a childe meant making an heir, and he was looking for someone to rule who could unite the vampires and the wizards. He had tried with only the smallest success to foster a community of brotherhood between the two supernatural realms. It seemed counterintuitive to fear one another when non-magic humans posed the biggest threat to both of their continuities.

After Pansy was turned, she made quick work of navigating the vampire world and its politics because it was so like the wizarding world. Her sire had chosen well, and as he had thought, her attributes as a human were amplified as a vampire. She thought of herself as supernaturally intuitive, not necessarily psychic, but Pansy found that if she listened to the inner recesses of her mind, she was always right.

Within 10 years, Pansy had inherited London and served as its queen. Not once did she regret being turned—that was until the night she ran into Draco Malfoy at an exclusive club where she was hosting a carefully selected group of influential wizards, all of whom were instructed to bring along a powerful, preferably wealthy patron.

Pansy shivered, catching his scent before she even saw him. Her eyes closed as she inhaled the familiar aroma of leather and of the sea, an airy, salty mixture that promised wealth and luxury as it wound itself through her nose and into her adolescent memories. She hadn’t thought about Draco since she became a vampire, but now she wondered what it would be like to walk in the room on his arm, to be so tangled up in his scent that she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.

When she opened her eyes to watch Draco approach, now a grown and exquisite man, she heard that voice, the one who was always right, tell her to take what was already hers.

So she did.

And after Draco had transitioned, they fucked for three straight nights, feeding only off of one another until she grew the willpower to untangle herself from her new childe and teach him the ways of the vampire.

Draco became a master hunter, even better than Pansy. Though he had been beautiful as a human, as a vampire, he was a god. His breeding made him all the more lethal, charming every human he chose into willing prey.

Pansy was proud of her childe, besotted in love and lust, and while they were impossibly happy, she couldn’t ignore that voice that insisted something was missing.

While she continued to turn her sire’s small steps of success into strides with Draco’s keen, dark intellect proving to be an asset, she kept her mind open to the possible solution that would settle her sense that something was missing, that together as two, she and Draco were incomplete.

And on the night she turned Harry Potter, it was like the cosmos had aligned and the last side of an open triangle had finally, _finally_ been drawn.

Harry fucking Potter, oh what a bitch the universe was. It was about five years after turning Draco when Pansy ran into Harry on one of his missions as an Auror. They had a mutual enemy, it seemed—a wizard hell-bent on creating a vampire army which would erase all of Pansy’s sire’s and her hard work. That just would not do.

Pansy had gotten there first and was holding the wizard round the throat. With a flick of her wrist, his neck was broke, and with a good shake, his head dislodged, and along with it, a part of the spine.

And that is how Harry Potter saw Pansy Parkinson for the first time since Hogwarts, standing in a dimly lit cave, clad in Louboutin’s and a form-fitting black dress that cost more than his entire year’s salary, with a head and a dangling bit of spine hanging from her perfectly manicured hand.

Harry laughed out loud.

And then he screamed.

\- - - - - - -

Draco was distraught when Pansy disappeared, and then he was livid when she returned with her new childe. He had felt her roiling emotions and rattled around their mansion for those three days like a madman. Not even her security detail knew where she went and Draco had to keep the news that the queen had disappeared quiet. There was no shortage of Dukes and Duchesses in the English territories that wanted to take her place.

An hour after sunset on the fourth night, Pansy returned, her childe in tow.

Draco immediately bared his teeth and charged the newborn, Pansy swatting him aside.

“Manners, Draco. Is that any way to treat your new kin?”

Harry smirked.

 _He fucking smirked!_ Draco’s mind screamed and he was off the floor and once again charging at Harry.

Pansy hissed and wrapped her hands around Draco’s throat. She slammed him to the floor, fangs bared, planting her knee into his chest.

“You will remain in your quarters until you can interact with Harry in a civilized manner. Once you’ve let your childish hatred die, you’ll feel what he and I both feel—this is right. We are a troika, and together, our power will be limitless. This is our destiny— _your_ destiny.”

Pansy stood and held her hand out to Harry. He stepped around Draco, rather dramatically much to Draco’s chagrin as he watched from the floor, observing that Harry had eyes for no one other than Pansy.

Draco swiped at the crescent of dirt left by Pansy’s hand. Apparently, she had spent Harry’s transition with him in the ground, just as she had with Draco. Draco’s fists clenched at the thought of her curled around Harry’s body.

“Let’s get cleaned up, darling, then I’ll teach you how to feed,” Pansy’s voice travelled into Draco’s ear with the softness of an icepick.

He stood and stormed off to his rooms.

\- - - - - - -

Pansy led Harry into her suite and sent her guards away. She went into the elaborate bath and began to fill the in-ground tub with hot water. She hated being dirty, but that was a small price to pay for doing right by your childe. Pansy’s sire had taught her that creating a new vampire was the most significant act of any vampire’s unlife. _We are forever—choose wisely, my childe, as I have._ Pansy smiled at the memory of her sire’s words, and again as she looked at Harry.

He was looking at everything, and Pansy remembered what it was really like to see the world for the first time. The clarity alone was enough to overwhelm your human self’s understanding of sight, but then to add in color, texture, and contrast—it was overwhelming.

Pansy cocked her head and gave a little laugh.

“You can take your glasses off now.”

Harry furrowed his brows and reached for his face. He pulled his glasses off and his pupils dilated, adjusting again to his surroundings without the filmy lenses that had covered his eyes.

“Gods. . . this is amazing.”

“Yes. It takes some time getting used to, but time is what you have in abundance now.”

Harry continued to examine everything in the bath, but when Pansy stepped out of her ruined shoes and shimmied out of her dress, he stopped, still as a statue, his fangs popping out. Harry jumped and touched the puncture wounds made in his bottom lip that were already healing.

Pansy laughed, “I feel like Draco took to his new form with a bit more aplomb than you, little love.”

Harry frowned, well at least he tried to frown, at Pansy’s mention of Draco, only succeeding when his fangs had receded.

“I can feel him—he’s so angry.”

Pansy nodded her head. “We are joined now, forever bonded. You’ll learn how to keep our emotions out or let them in—actually, it’s a lot like Occlumency.”

Harry groaned, “I was always rubbish at Occlumency.”

“Interesting,” Pansy stated, then Harry was once again taking in her naked form, her hand on her hip.

Pansy met his gaze and commanded, “Take off your clothes.”

Harry, without hesitation pulled his shirt over his head, looking slightly horrified that he did so without hesitation.

“Stop.”

Harry’s hands stilled immediately.

“What you are experiencing is the sire/childe bond. As your sire, you are subject to my command. I understand this power, Harry, and I will not abuse it. I know it is in your nature to fight against what you have not willed, but if I use a command, it will be for a matter of great importance.”

Pansy sumptuously bit her lower lip before continuing, “So, if you please, finish undressing.”

Harry’s hands twitched but they did not move as they had done earlier.

“A command involves more than just speaking the words?”

“Yes. I must truly will it, and it takes a great deal of concentration.”

Harry nodded his head. Pansy popped her hand off her hip and slid into the tub, humming as the water washed over her, already clearing her porcelain skin of the affronting dirt.

Pansy peered at Harry who was currently still standing statue-still watching the way the water bobbed around Pansy’s large, round breasts. His eyes were filled with desire and Pansy could see his straining cock through his filthy jeans, as well as his distended fangs.

“My fangssh? Why can’t I control them?” Harry lisped to Pansy’s breasts, unable to pull his eyes away.

Pansy smiled, snakelike, “Because you want me. Literature will tell you that your fangs are for feeding, but they are so much more. They become an extension of yourself, prone to your body’s whims whether it be a hunger for sustenance or a hunger for sex. You’re a vampire now, Harry. Blood and sex have risen to the top of your hierarchy of needs.”

Harry removed the rest of his clothing and finally stood naked before his sire. Pansy sat up straighter, water running off her breasts and over her hard nipples as they were exposed to the cool air. She spread her arms out behind her, resting them along the edge of the tub, looking every bit like a queen surveying her newest consort.

Gone were the soft lines and curves of youth that Pansy had remembered. Instead, Harry’s body was muscled and purely masculine. His hair was still the same mop of messy black strands that refused to maintain any sense of order, except that Harry had finally learned to see a decent barber. His hair was cut with a low fade, the top left longer to achieve his famously disheveled look according to the public, but to anyone who knew Harry, it was only to cover his scar, which was _still_ on his forehead. Pansy was puzzled and knew she would have to do some research on the matter. When a human body transitioned, all of its imperfections were erased. Even Draco’s Dark Mark was gone.

Without his glasses, Harry’s eyes were shimmering, light-colored emeralds. They would be anyone’s death if he simply looked them in the eye long enough. If Pansy still had a breath, it would’ve caught in her throat when he fixed his gaze on her.

Harry’s face still held the darkened outline of a few days old stubble, and it only served to make him look more masculine, the deep brown of the tiny hairs complementing the darker tone of his skin. Vampires were pale, but they still retained their natural pigmentation. Pansy’s mind flashed to how glorious that darker body would look writhing between her and Draco.

Harry’s chest had a smattering of dark hair that Pansy longed to run her nails over and a matching trail of hair that led to his cock. And oh, if the poets had decided to wax about cocks the way they wax about a woman’s “delicate flower,” Pansy would have requested epics to be written about Harry Potter’s cock. It was currently rock hard and jutting straight out, begging to be taken into her mouth, her cunt, her ass—she wouldn’t be fussy.

Harry slid into the tub across from Pansy and this time was quick enough to open his mouth as his fangs made another appearance.

“Thissh ish quite annoying,” Harry grumbled.

Pansy laughed, once again forgetting just what an anomaly Draco was. He had taken to being a vampire like he had been born for it, much like Pansy had. Harry’s transition was proving to be more typical.

She clicked out her fangs and ran her tongue over them, enjoying the flicker of lust that dilated Harry’s pupils.

“You’ll get used to it. As I said earlier, they will become an extension of yourself, the same as any other part of your anatomy.”

“No more lishp?”

“No more lisp,” Pansy giggled perfectly through her extended fangs.

Pansy brought her arms back into the water and pushed her way to Harry. She settled onto his lap, just far enough away to avoid his cock.

She ran her fingers over his face, and his eyes fluttered shut as he absorbed the feeling of her complete contentment. Soon, his fangs retracted.

“You’ll learn,” she whispered. “In the meantime, why don’t you rid me of this dirt?”

Pansy held out a loofah and Harry took it, considering the feeling of the material before he reached for the soap and poured a generous amount onto it. He began with her chest and neck, soaping and scrubbing every inch of exposed skin, his fingers following in the loofah’s soapy wake. She felt like silk that had been drawn taught over granite. Strength emanated from her, and Harry found that incredibly alluring.

Pansy’s eyes were closed so Harry took that opportunity to soap his hands and wash her face, the loofah momentarily forgotten. He ran his hands over her cheeks and his fingers over her eyelids and nose, the dirt falling away and her white skin glowing in its wake.

Harry couldn’t believe he never knew how beautiful she was. Her nose was a perfect match for her face, the slight upturn at the bottom only drawing your attention to the cupid’s bow of her plump upper lip. Her lower lip, slightly fuller than her upper, begged to be grasped between a set of teeth. Her eyebrows were full and perfectly arched to accentuate her eyes, and those brows were as black as her hair, so black that Harry questioned the color of his own hair.

Harry reached for the attached shower head and turned it on so it was at a soft drip, like a light rain. He ran it over her face, rinsing away all the dirt and soap. He loved the way the water clung to her long, full eyelashes, like even they were in love with her face and didn’t want to part with it. She opened her eyes and Harry was drawn into the vibrant colors of black-brown and gold that composed her irises. It was if they were constantly shifting, like a kaleidoscope. Harry thought that he had never seen anything so lovely. Pansy smiled at the look of adoration from Harry.

“My hair, gods it’s a mess,” she said as she turned around still sitting on his lap.

She tilted her head back and Harry used the shower to soak her long hair. Harry reached for the shampoo and was nearly overwhelmed by the scent of coconut as he washed her hair. Pansy moaned as he scraped his nails over her scalp, and after he rinsed her hair, she moved to a higher seat in the tub, water sliding off of her body.

Pansy quirked a brow, “Continue, please.”

Harry soaped the loofah again and rushed to run it over the rest of Pansy’s body. As he slid down her taught stomach, she spread her thighs and Harry could see the heart-shaped patch of hair that was neatly designed into her mound. He smiled, deciding that if he met the final death, he would want it to be while he was between those perfect legs. Harry skipped her most intimate region and finished with her legs and feet. If Pansy was disappointed he didn’t touch her yet, it didn’t show. Instead, she moved back into the water and hummed with pleasure.

“So much better. Now it’s your turn.”

Pansy slid back into the water and took the loofah. She mirrored Harry’s process, delighting in touching his skin and sliding her fingers over his hard muscles. After she had rinsed his hair, she reached deep between his legs and cupped his balls.

“What do you want, Harry?”  
His fangs had already extended and his mouth was slightly open. His tongue peeked out to wet his bottom lip and Pansy wrapped her lips over it, suckling gently.

She released his lip with a tiny smack and repeated her question.

“You,” Harry breathed. “I’ve never…it’s too much. I feel like I’ll die if I don’t have you.”

Pansy laughed, “Silly little love…you’re already dead.”

Pansy moved, faster than even Harry could register, and sank herself on his cock, the water splashing around them.

Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head and he moaned, deep and full of satisfaction.

Meanwhile, as Pansy sank onto Harry’s cock, instead of opening his bedroom door, Draco yanked it off its hinges and threw it into the stone wall, splinters of wood scattering the length of the hallway.

He stooped, picking up one particularly pointy piece of wood and savoring the feel of it in his hand. He imagined how it would feel to drive it through Harry Potter’s undead fucking heart.

\- - - - - - -

Harry’s celebrity brought a new level of excitement to Pansy’s cause. Draco continued to sulk, avoiding direct contact with Pansy and Harry, but he watched and he followed.

Harry was currently surrounded by a group of what Draco called riffraff. It appeared as though all manner of creature was just as attracted to the Boy Wonder in death as in life. Draco watched as he saw the flash of Harry’s teeth as he smiled, and ignored the shiver of pleasure that ran down his spine as he watched Harry toss his head back and laugh, his mind wondering what it would taste like to run his tongue along that expanse of flesh, licking from collarbone to chin, right through that damnable stubble.

Harry, still grinning, met Draco’s storm-cloud eyes. No doubt he felt Draco’s pang of lust since he continued to be unable to block out Draco’s strong surges of emotion.

_Insufferable prat._

Draco disappeared, leaving Harry to his adoring fans.

\- - - - - - -

Pansy’s nails, filed to light pink, shimmering points were dragging down Harry Potter’s stomach, leaving tiny blood trails in their wake.

Pansy increased the pressure of her middle finger, causing a deeper wound which elicited a small hiss from Harry. She smiled and ran her tongue up the cut, savoring the unique flavor of his blood. Like his scent, Harry tasted woodsy, like someone who could live a thousand years in the forest, the trees as their only companions. He was the pepper to Draco’s salt, and Pansy longed for them to be together, a feeling she blocked from both of her sires. This was one thing she needed the universe to acknowledge for its rightness, not her power of manipulation.

Feeling the pleasurable sting of Pansy’s slick tongue as it slid up the small cut made Harry’s cock jump, and he was now uncertain if he could be any harder. That was until he saw Draco leaning against the doorframe, the bored look on his face made completely moot by the straining bulge in his trousers.

What a sight Pansy and Harry must’ve made- her delicious ass in the air, thighs spread just wide enough for anyone at the door to catch sight of her glistening cunt. Her long, dark hair, was making a curtain over her shoulder. Harry, leaned into the headboard, his hair more disheveled than usual, his legs spread enough for Pansy to fit between, and his rockhard cock was unabashedly begging for attention.

Draco had kept his distance for months. Anytime they crossed paths, Harry had ignored him just the same as he ignored Harry.

After Harry’s turning, Pansy and Harry went to the Ministry. Harry had to resign as an Auror and register as a vampire. He was, however, insistent on not doing so until he spoke to the Minister. Harry Potter was still a public figure, a hero. Pansy was not unaware of the political advantage of turning someone like him, but Harry knew that she couldn’t have stopped her turning him any more than he could’ve stopped himself from accepting the invitation.

Now that Harry more deeply understood the wizards’ treatment of humanoid supernaturals, he was determined to do right by the subset of creatures he was now a part of. He had failed Remus Lupin. He was not going to fail his sire.

Pansy and Harry’s nights quickly filled with meetings. They conducted careful interviews that showed the measured control vampires retained and outlined their primary cause: a safe place for all to exist among wizarding kind.

Draco was left at the mansion to take care of the vampires in Pansy’s area. She had quickly made him her First, her heir apparent, and while Pansy was born to be a leader, Draco was born to be a tactician, easily solving problems and figuring out the quickest way to an outcome that positively impacted the majority.

Pansy didn’t push either of her children to interact. She was determined to open the door of communication between wizards and vampires, and turning Harry had allowed her to get even further in a shorter amount of time than she had planned. She also spent the rest of their time together teaching Harry, and when they weren’t playing the roles or negotiators or of mentor and mentee, they were fucking.

Tonight, the meeting at the Ministry had gone so well that both Harry and Pansy were feeling euphoric. Draco, although a master at blocking out emotion, sensed both of their extreme delight and couldn’t keep away.

“I take it things went well,” he drawled from the doorway, continuing to look as bored and as proper as if he were about to sit for afternoon tea with his grandmother.

Pansy never turned her head and instead spoke between the sloppy kisses she placed across Harry’s stomach.

“Fantastic. Moving forward. Much quicker than anticipated. Should have legislation. Next week.”

Harry continued to watch Draco, an action that did not go unnoticed by Pansy. She slid her body up Harry’s and captured his earlobe between her teeth. She stroked the lobe with her tongue before whispering, “If you want him, you’ll have to go and get him.”

She felt the muscles in Harry’s bicep tense, sensing the internal conflict of lust and letting go of the rigid human notions that surrounded sex. Pansy continued to nibble and suck down Harry’s neck, her wet cunt leaving a slick spot on Harry’s thigh as she pressed into him, enjoying the slight friction.

Draco spoke up again from the doorway, drawling, “Well, aren’t you two just _so_ efficient.”

Draco pushed off from the doorway with his shoulder and turned to leave, growling just a little, the tiniest noise detected only by Pansy.

Harry wriggled, calling out, “Wait!”

He was surprised by the desperation in his own voice. Pansy lazily rolled off of him, her eyes half-lidded as if she could care less about what was transpiring between the boys. In actuality, her body was singing in anticipation.

Harry got up and stood beside the bed, taking a few slow steps before stopping, unsure of how to tell Draco what he wanted, to tell him that he wasn’t taking Pansy away from him, just that he thought he would die if she wasn’t near him, and that he felt the same way when he saw or felt Draco near him, that this was supposed to be the three of them, together, for eternity.

“Malfoy, look. I didn’t set out for this to happen. It was fate and I wouldn’t change a thing except how distant you are. Pansy misses you. She aches because you’ve rejected us. I ache, too…”

As Harry trailed off, now completely open for Draco to wound him or soothe him, Draco’s icy-steel eyes shot to Pansy’s whose own had opened in surprise at Harry’s declaration of her own emotion. She thought she had hid it all, but her new childe still wore his emotions on his sleeve, opening him to feel more deeply, the opposite of herself and Draco’s careful compartmentalization.

“Well, Potter,” Draco spat, “Sorry I’ve been the one having to run this area while the two of you are off championing ‘the greater cause,’ neglecting the actual vampires you are supposed to be fighting for—typical Harry Potter, assuming his wants are everyone else’s wishes.”

Draco turned to leave, a sneer of disgust marring his perfect face.

Pansy knew it was her turn. The power of the troika had brought them all together, but it wouldn’t fully form—not without her initiative.

Pansy slid out of bed and flashed to Draco in the time it took him to take three steps. He turned back to face her after a moment’s hesitation, his features twisting from disgust to longing. She slid her arms up his chest and kissed him, slowly, softly, far more intimately than she had yet kissed Harry. Harry felt like he should look away, but his eyes were intently watching the movement of their lips and tongues, and as the kiss deepened, the flash of fangs and tiny drips of blood that were exchanged as each nicked their tongue off the other’s fangs.

Draco’s arms had wrapped around Pansy and he clung to her as if she were a buoy, holding him up in the roiling tides of his love and lust.

Pansy ended the kiss and she put her hands on each of side of Draco’s face, running her thumbs lightly under his eyes as he twisted one hand around the dangling locks of her hair. It was an intimate gesture, a well-practiced one, and Harry shifted uncomfortably.

“You are my first, and always will be, but I know that you could feel we weren’t complete until I sired Harry. It’s meant to be you, me, and him, twisted together for eternity.”

Draco pulled on the locks of Pansy’s hair, thrusting her chip up and exposing her neck. He bent, dragging his tongue down her silky neck from chin to collar before rounding to her jugular vein. He sunk his fangs in and drew a long draught as Pansy’s eyes fluttered shut. He pulled back, swiping his tongue across the wounds as they closed. He didn’t let go of Pansy’s hair as he softly whispered, “Get over here, Potter.”

Harry was instantly at Pansy’s back, his fangs out.

Draco loosened his grip on Pansy’s hair and turned her around so she was facing Harry. She tilted her head, proffering the same vein from which Draco had just drank. Harry slid his hand over her hip, his fingers digging into the flesh of her ass as he slid his fangs into her neck. Pansy moaned and twined her fingers into the messy tendrils of Harry’s hair. When he pulled back and mimicked Draco’s swipe of the tongue over the closing punctures, Draco had already undressed and was standing gloriously naked behind Pansy. Harry’s eyes were transfixed on Draco’s body.

Draco was slimmer than Harry, built with a lither frame, but the muscles of his body were defined and begged for a tongue to trace their soft ridges. He was slightly taller, and Harry couldn’t stop focusing on the smoothness of his neck, so perfectly pale that he imagined Draco’s skin would feel like cool marble under his tongue. Harry’s tongue betrayed him and darted out to wet his lips. Draco watched the flash of pink and his eyes dilated, becoming predatory. Pansy, sensing their rising lust, slid, imperceptibly from between them.

Harry was the first to move, a millimeter of a lean toward Draco, but that tiny movement opened into a flood of desire and the boys crashed into one another in a kiss that left Pansy impossibly wet. Despite her being stronger than them both, neither of the boys kissed Pansy like they kissed each other. It was a clash of tongues, teeth, lips, and fangs. Harry’s fingers were digging into the flesh at Draco’s shoulder and Pansy could see the tiny crescent moons of blood being left in their wake. Draco had a hold of Harry’s hair, and pulled his face up just enough to reach while his other hand dug into Harry’s hip, fingers pressing into the globe of his ass. The sounds issuing from each of their throats bordered on the inhuman--growls of lust that sent shivers through Pansy’s body.

Harry may have been the one to close the distance, but Draco was the one to grab Harry’s cock, palming the hard flesh and making Harry’s knees buckle. In no more than two strokes, Harry shuddered and came all over Draco’s hand and stomach.

“Gods, Potter! You want me that much?” Draco said with amusement.

“I think a part of me always has,” Harry admitted, turning his unsettlingly earnest eyes to Draco’s.

Draco shook his head, partly in disbelief and partly in relief. He pulled his hand away from Harry’s cock, a sticky string of come falling to the wooden floor as Draco dropped to his knees.

He enveloped Harry’s still hard cock in his cool mouth and Harry’s head lulled back, his eyes fluttering shut. With no need to breath, Draco took in Harry’s full length, swallowing him until his nose bumped Harry’s pubic bone. Draco reached to cup Harry’s balls, pulling them just hard enough to flirt with the edge of pain. Harry moaned, low and guttural.

Pansy had taken to massaging her breasts, pinching and pulling on her nipples. She had her thighs clenched together and made the perfect picture of a goddess attempting to contain her lust. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, and her eyes were once again lidded with pleasure.

It wasn’t long before Harry came again, his come splashing down Draco’s throat. Draco released Harry’s cock from his mouth, his tongue giving the tip one last swirl as he pulled away.

Draco rose and kissed Harry, each of them savoring the mix of new tastes, before he stepped around him and headed to Pansy.

“Spread your legs for me, my Queen.”

Pansy obliged with a quirk of her brow, the bed dipping under Draco’s weight as he slid in, and grabbed the undersides of her knees, shoving Pansy’s thighs up and further apart. Her hands let go of her breasts, and they bounced as she wrapped her hands around the iron spires of the headboard. Her grip was already leaving tiny indentations in the metal and when Draco shoved his tongue into her cunt, the indentations became even more pronounced. He swirled and flicked as far as he could reach into her tightness, the sensation causing Pansy to bite her bottom lip.

Harry stood at the end of the bed and watched, realizing that he had never seen anything more gorgeous than this moment. His sire, an ebony-haired goddess, and his now forever-kin, a white-haired god. It no longer surprised him that his cock was hard again. He often lost track of how many times Pansy could spill him in a night, and now he had another lover. He wondered if a vampire could spontaneously combust from lust.

Draco was now circling Pansy’s perfectly rosy outer lips with his tongue, teasing her. He would lap one side, then ghost over her clit to lap the other. A vampire queen she was, but under Draco’s tongue, she was nothing more than a wanton tart.

Draco paused this time as he crossed above her clit yet again, his lips just brushing the swollen bud as he spoke.

“Potter, I could use some assistance.”

Harry, faster than a human eye could register, was at Draco’s side. Draco shifted, spreading Pansy’s thighs wider and creating a space for Harry.

“Don’t you dare give her what she wants yet,” Draco cautioned as he slid down to lick at Pansy’s perineum before dipping his tongue into her ass.

Pansy growled, low in her throat, which caused Draco to hum proudly. Harry grinned, delighted to be included in this game of exquisite torture.

He picked up where Draco left off, their faces close enough to bump into one another as they worked their sire, driving her to the edge again and again, refusing to let her spill over.

Draco had begun kissing out along Pansy’s inner thigh and he reached to grip Harry’s chin. Harry found Draco’s eyes and watched as he popped out his fangs, following suit. Draco licked along Pansy’s veins, sniffing out the blood running through them. He and Harry held each other in their peripheral vision, biting as one into her thighs. Pansy screamed in pleasure, the two metal spires of the headboard snapping into pieces under the force of her strength. Her orgasm pulsed through her body, her flesh electric. The walls of her vagina contracted and more wetness leaked from her opening.

The boys licked their marks, her skin already returned to its unblemished state.

Pansy lay still, basking in the beauty of her orgasm, relishing in how it felt like she was a part of everything and nothing at the same time. When she finally opened her eyes, they were shining and so dark they looked black, the flecks of gold having been swallowed by her prodigious lust.

“I need you. Both of you.”

Harry looked a bit nervous at her declaration, but Draco just smirked.

Pansy slid her hand along the spot beside her on the bed and looked at Harry. He scooted up and reclined with his back against the pillows in front of the headboard. He was almost in a sitting position and Pansy figured that would do nicely. She swung her hips over his thighs and languidly kissed him until he was at ease. She softly stroked him, and when she deepened their kiss, she lowered herself onto his cock, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as she settled onto his entire length.

Pansy made tiny circles with her hips, enjoying the feel of Harry’s cock inside her. She shivered with anticipation when she felt Draco’s fingers circle her center and around Harry’s cock. He worked those now wet fingers around the rim of her ass, which he then discovered was already soaked from her earlier orgasm. Draco wasted no more time and settled in-between Harry’s legs, poised at her other entrance. She moved up a bit for a better angle and Draco’s arm snaked around her waist, his hand splaying across her abdomen. He easily slid into her and growled at just how tight she was with Harry’s cock inside of her. Harry was flicking his eyes from Draco’s to Pansy’s, both of them large and cat-like, watching him like prey. Harry bucked his hips and all three of them moaned.

It didn’t take long to find a rhythm that generated the most exquisite friction within Pansy’s walls. Soon, there was nothing but the sounds of slick flesh, guttural moans, and snapping fangs nicking softly into necks, wrists, shoulders, palms or whatever flesh was presented. Drops of scarlet began to stain the sheets as their bodies worked to a fevered climax. Magic hummed in the air, wrapping around them like a fourth lover, poised to enter them as they completed their bond.

Pansy was the first to come, her body clenching around both of her boys and Draco followed. Harry came as he felt the pulsing of Draco’s cock emptying its come into Pansy’s ass. Their orgasms lasted for an impossibly long time as the magic wound over them again and again, sealing their souls together.

As the sun rose and stole their energy, they laid together as cool, perfect bodies, completely sated. Pansy finally felt at peace, and what’s more, even with the rising sun, is that she felt strong, as if strength were flowing infinitely between the three of them instead of just emanating from each of them.

They were going to change the world; she at the helm and Draco and Harry by her side, a perfect trifecta of love, loyalty, and lust.


	2. A Spar for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy leaves Draco with a very specific task: get Harry to use his supernatural strength and to stop relying only on magic. Of course this is just an incredibly loose premise so I can meet the request of writing about the boys, one-on-one : )

If Draco could breath, he would have delivered a sigh of frustration fit for the ages. Instead, he settled for a noise that was a cross between a growl and a groan. He looked down at the pathetic, rapidly healing figure of the Boy-Who-Lived-Except-That-He-Didn’t…technically.

“You aren’t even _trying_ ,” Draco drawled.

“I’ve told you a thousand times. I can’t _fucking_ do it. You’re too strong.”

“And what happens when you meet someone out there who can actually hurt you? Who’s too fast against your magic? You’re just going to lay there, like you are now, and not even bother fighting back?”

“You’ve run me through with that fucking sword seven times tonight, Malfoy,” Harry ran his hands through his hair as the wound on his side closed up again, causing the black strands to stick up even more wildly. He reached down, lightly running his fingers over the mended skin.

Draco watched his movements, quelling the flicker of lust. If he didn’t teach Potter to defend himself by the time Pansy returned from her negotiations with MACUSA, she’d rip out his eyeballs. He missed her fiercely, but there was something about being alone with Potter, about Potter being dependent upon him that made him feel. . . alive, for lack of a better term. Harry excited Draco in ways that Pansy didn’t, something that she assured him was completely normal. As brothers, they would share a bond that differed from maker to childe.

As obstinate in death as in life, Harry continued to rely on his magic, refusing to nurture his supernatural strength. Weeks ago, Draco had grabbed him by the throat, threatening to rip it out if he didn’t explain to him why he was being so antagonistic. Harry flapped his hands and clawed at Draco’s fingers, refusing to answer. From then on, Draco woke Harry up, every evening, with a sword to his throat and made him duel for hours.

Draco continued looking at Harry, his eyes moving over his perfect, slightly darker skin. The muscles in Harry’s abdomen twitched slightly as he ghosted his fingers along his side, his eyes closed and his mouth turned down in the slightest, sexiest frown that Draco had ever seen.

“It’s just like wandless magic. You draw from the power within and expel it. It’s just…there. Raw power waiting to be expended.”

Harry didn’t open his eyes as he answered, “You know I was rubbish at wandless magic. Or rather, controlling it.”

Draco tossed the sword on the floor with a clang; it skittered to a stop against the wall, and still, Harry didn’t open his eyes.

“I give up,” Draco declared. “Let Pansy rip out my eyeballs. You’re fucking impossible, Potter.”

Draco sat down next to Harry and followed the trail he had watched Harry make earlier with his own fingertips. Again, Harry’s muscles twitched in the wake of Draco’s too-light touch. Draco traced over the non-existent scars of the wounds he had made as he moved up Harry’s body to trace a finger along the strong muscle of his neck.

Harry turned toward Draco’s touch, a small, soft movement of need that drove Draco mad. His cock began to harden, his black training pants doing little to hide the effect the other male had on him. Harry, eyes still closed, reached over and rested his hand on Draco’s thigh, giving it the slightest squeeze.

Draco clenched his teeth together and a small growl sounded at the back of his throat. Harry’s fingers squeezed just a little harder before they loosened and began to move toward Draco’s groin. Draco grabbed his hand and in a movement far too quick for the human eye, straddled Harry’s hips and pinned his arms above his head. Draco bared his teeth at the tiny “o” of surprise that formed on Harry’s mouth, whose eyes shot open as Draco’s thighs clenched around his hips and his hard cock rubbed against Harry’s. Instantaneously, Harry met Draco’s arousal, shifting his hips up to elicit some friction.

Draco switched Harry’s hands into one of his own and reached down with the now free hand to pin Harry’s hip to the floor.

Draco’s fangs snicked out as an additional warning and Harry stilled his movements, knowing that the fucking he was about to get was worth the submission.

Draco retracted his fangs and reached up again to separate Harry’s hands. He whispered, “Incarcerous,” and ropes shot out of the floor, snaked around Harry’s wrists and pinned them to the floor. Harry looked up at his wrists in surprise as Draco stood and grabbed the bottoms of Harry’s athletic pants and ripped them off, leaving Harry naked, his cool flesh settling onto the cool, wooden floor.

Harry licked his lips, his green eyes nearly black and ironically predatory considering that it was him bound to the floor. He watched as Draco turned his back to him, the muscles rippling as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slowly slid them down his thighs until he reached his knees, letting the pants slide down his legs to the floor. Draco paused, straightened slowly, then lifted each foot free from the bottoms of his pants, causing Harry’s fangs to pop out, puncturing his lower lip. 

In a deft movement, Draco was on top of him straddling Harry’s naked thigh, his tongue already sliding across the drops of blood. Harry shuddered at the feel of Draco’s tongue sliding along his lip and moaned as Draco pushed his tongue against the tip of Harry’s fang, spilling the tiniest drop of blood that Harry eagerly sucked.

Draco shifted and ground his hips into Harry’s leg, his cock pressing along his thigh. Harry strained against his bindings, his fingers splayed and twitching.

“Touch me,” he whispered.

Draco ignored him.

Instead, he began to rock into Harry’s thigh, his grey gaze locked with Harry’s green. Harry’s veins stood prominent against the muscles in his arms, his desire to touch Draco or himself overwhelming. Draco could feel that need seeping through their bond, but he continued to rock against Harry’s thigh, his mouth opening, and tiny groans escaping.

He shifted again, angling himself even closer to Harry and closed his eyes, his moan turning to a growl as he came, covering Harry’s thigh in a cool slickness.

If Harry were human, he would’ve been a sweaty, panting mess, but the only giveaways that the dark-haired vampire was nearing insanity from being unable to touch were his straining muscles, balled fists, and the low inhuman growl resonating in his throat.

Draco moved, his cock pulling a tiny stream of cum along with it as he straightened, still just straddling Harry’s thigh. Harry’s eyes locked on that slickness and he pressed his lips together, whining a whispered, “Please, please.”

With a raised eyebrow, Draco barely hid his smirk as he ran the tip of his finger through the cum on Harry’s thigh. He reached up and traced that finger across Harry’s lips and as Harry’s tongue darted out to taste Draco, his body shuddered and—

Draco grabbed the base of Harry’s cock and squeezed hard, cutting off his orgasm.

The noise that escaped Harry’s lips was one of such dejection that Draco almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

Draco unclenched his hand and Harry’s head thumped back onto the hard wood of the floor, shaking back and forth in frustration. Draco loved him like this, loved knowing how undone he could make his mate, loved feeling the ebb and flow of Harry’s powerful emotions. 

Moving to once again straddle Harry’s hips, Draco slid his hands up Harry’s torso and squeezed the muscles of his pecs; he narrowed his grip to take each nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Draco’s sticky cock was perilously close to Harry’s, and when Draco dropped his hips, just a fraction, and their cocks met, a tear leaked out of the corner of Harry’s eye. He pushed his hips up, stilling to see if Draco would allow the movement. Harry didn’t dare attempt anything other than that small, furtive movement.

Draco continued to run his hands over Harry’s body, eventually leaning down to kiss him, hard and bruising. Fangs snicked, tongues dipped in and out of each other’s mouths, and Draco built the kiss to a frenzied crescendo of moans and pants.

“Finite,” he whispered into Harry’s mouth.

Draco’s head bounced off the floor as Harry slammed him down, planting himself between Draco’s legs. In nearly the same movement, Harry cast the lubrication spell and thrust into Draco. He wrapped his hands around the blonde’s neck for leverage and pounded into Draco’s ass with such a fervor that Draco soon found they had scooted a few feet across the floor and his head was knocking against the wall.

Draco could’ve cared less and slammed both fists into the wall, creating two holes for him to grip to push back against Harry’s thrusts, just like a pseudo-headboard.

Every time Harry came inside of Draco he thought that it couldn’t get any better, that his high couldn’t be any more euphoric.

And he was wrong, again.

When Harry came, he was shocked to feel the wetness on his cheeks that fell in tandem with his orgasm. When he emptied into Draco, it felt like every nerve in his body jolted, shocking his system, almost like a bucket of ice water being thrown on him. His vision went dark for a moment and he shook off the blackness as he dropped his head to the crook of Draco’s neck, inhaling the scent of his lover to keep him grounded.

Harry flopped onto his back on the floor beside Draco, both of them staring at the intricate pattern of the plastered ceiling without really seeing it.

Draco spoke first. “You know, love, at some time you’re going to have to tell me why you refuse to get any better at sparring.”

Harry turned and propped himself up on his elbow. He gifted Draco with a smirk that rivaled generations of pretentious Malfoys and slid his hand down Draco’s taut stomach to his cock.

“You seriously haven’t figured it out yet?”

This time, Harry felt the wave of emotion emit from Draco like the lash of a whip.

Draco closed his eyes and wished for a moment, a very short moment, that Harry was alive just so he could kill him himself.

Defeated, Draco pulled Harry to him and kissed him, fiercely. 

Harry laughed softly into the kiss. 


End file.
